Apples for Dinner
by GreenEyesGreySkies
Summary: This is Bickering Husbands Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy at a dinner party featuring a few of their best friends. Also featuring tons of swearing, name calling, and italics. (all's fair in the game of love and apples ya feel) (also poor Hermione). Post Hogwarts AU.


_**drarry **__prompted by the very lovel_y pottersir (tumblr)

**prompt:**_ harry and draco..um…they're…fighting over something..like..um omg they're fighting over which apple is better. draco's for green and harry's for red. _

**Author's Note: Hello friends, I am indeed alive. I'm going to TRYREALLYHARD to post a few small oneshots this month (if not an entire chapter update for Spoken - I KNOW I KNOW I'M A HUGE LIAR AND PROCRASTINATOR). Please enjoy this ridiculousness xx**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters or any of their apples. Sad.

_**~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~**_

"That is the most _ridiculous_ thing I have _ever _heard."

"You won't even hear me out?"

Draco snorted and leaned forward. "Why should I?" he asked. "You are clearly wrong."

"I'm clearly _right_." Directly across from Draco, Harry sat forward too, his elbows placed roughly on the corners of the dining table. "You're just too proud to admit that mine is better."

"Proud?" Draco recoiled. "I'll have you know that my opinion has always superseded yours and always will—"

Harry rolled his eyes. "_Will _you shut up?"

"You are not the boss of me!"

"Boys," Hermione whisked into the room with a plate in each hand. She placed them on the table before giving each man the Look and folding her arms across her chest. "Please stop bickering for once."

"For Merlin's sake, Granger, we are not _boys _anymore," Draco complained, glaring up at the brunette woman. "We are grown _men_."

"Brilliant, then you and Harry can stop acting like school children and help set the table like the rest of us adults," Hermione said, gesturing towards the kitchen now, where Ron, Blaise and Pansy were all supposedly gathering utensils and the like. "This is going to be our first annual post-Hogwarts dinner together and I want it to go smoothly."

Draco rolled his eyes. "_That's_ going to happen," he muttered. Hermione ignored him.

"Hermione, I just got over a flu last week," Harry piped up. "I don't think you'd like me to touch all the food and stuff."

"Didn't I tell you not to play the final match?" Hermione scolded. "It was pouring rain that day."

Harry folded his arms. "I had to — it was the Cup. And the other Seeker is really, _really_ awful."

"Fuck you!" Draco growled.

Harry laughed.

"You should be thanking me," Draco curled his lip, "I sacrificed my entire week to take care of you while you were ill. Honestly, you're lucky to have me around."

Harry glared at him. "Yeah, I married a real saint."

"I made you_ soup_."

"_You _yelled at the elf to make me soup!"

"So?" Draco stomped his foot beneath the table. "You are an imbecile, _and_ you have horrible taste palette!"

"So you still won't admit that I'm right?"

"Yes, because you're wrong!"

"No… _you're_ wrong!"

"Harry, stop encouraging him," Hermione intervened.

Draco lifted his chin and smirked. "Yeah, _Harry_, stop that," he mocked. Hermione frowned at him.

"And you, Draco, stop goading him."

Before either Draco or Harry could give another protest, the rest of the group began to flood into the dining room, each carrying a variety of plates, goblets, forks, spoons, and napkins. Hermione, clearly delighted to have company other than the two men in front of her, began ushering everyone into their designated seats. The rectangle-shaped dining table was soon filled with silverware and occupants alike. Ron (who was sporting an experimental goatee) plopped down next to Harry and surveyed the current situation between the two teeming men. It looked dismal.

"The ol' ferret giving you trouble again, mate?" Ron asked Harry, narrowing his eyes a little in Draco's general direction. "Honestly, I don't know what you see in him."

"I'm not a ferret!" Draco shot back hotly.

Blaise sat down next to Draco. "Actually you _were_, for about two minutes," he remarked. Ron grinned and nodded at Blaise, who smirked and nodded back slightly.

"Hey _Zabini, _guess what?" Draco gestured at his Slytherin friend. "You are shit. Absolute shit. That is all you are. Have a nice life."

"Don't get defensive, Draco." Pansy put a hand on Blaise's shoulder. "He's only stating the truth."

Draco glared at her now. "Congratulations. You're shit too."

"You were a lot nicer as a ferret," Pansy pouted.

Harry nudged Ron. "'S' for shitty Slytherins, am I right?" The other man chuckled generously.

"'S' for shut the _fuck_ up if you want to get laid tonight, Scarhead," Draco hissed, whirling around to face his arch nemesis-slash-husband once more. Blaise and Pansy both began to titter as Ron's cheeks turned a faint pink colour for his friend. Harry just raised an eyebrow.

Hermione began to glare at each of them as she sat down in her seat. "Stop it, all of you," she chastised. "We are going to sit here and have a lovely, respectable dinner! Together. Right now!"

The group fell silent to Hermione's command. One by one, each former Hogwarts attendee piled food onto plates and sipped from goblets and stared at the looming table in front of them. The tension was impenetrable. The friendly facades were fading quickly. Draco was glowering at Harry across the table and Harry was glowering right back at Draco.

_Wrong,_ Draco mouthed.

Harry grabbed the edge of the table.

It was quite possibly the worst annual post-Hogwarts dinner party on the planet.

"So this is nice," Hermione said pleasantly, now attempting to break the quiet she herself had created — when nobody said anything, she looked at her husband for help. The redhead glanced back at her and widened his eyes before sitting up correctly in his seat.

"Erm… so did anybody see the match last night?" Ron asked.

"Yeah," Blaise said.

"Yeah… that was good."

"Um. Yeah."

"This salad is good," Pansy said now, to Hermione.

Hermione smiled tightly. "I grew the tomatoes myself."

"BASTARD!" Harry suddenly bellowed, still gripping the table. His knuckles were bright cherry red.

Everyone stopped and stared in amazement and disbelief as Draco grabbed the table as well. "Hey, say that again, Potty!" he bellowed back. "I didn't hear you!"

"Bastard, bastard, bastard!" Harry yelled. "You stupid fucking bastard Draco Malfoy! Stop your incessant whispering at me!"

"I'm not whispering at you!"

"I can SEE you doing it, you dolt!"

"You can't SEE anything, you fucking blind bat!"

Harry almost threw his elbows onto his plate. "You think you're funny?"

"No, I think I'm right!"

"How many times are we going to go over this?" Harry exclaimed. "_I _am right, _you _are wrong!"

"Sorry, wrong again, as usual," Draco yelled.

"Excuse me?"

"Are you deaf as well as blind? You are w-r-o-n-g."

"WHAT on earth is going on with you two?" Hermione shouted desperately. Blaise was grinning. Pansy was eating tomatoes. Ron was holding Harry's chicken leg. Both Draco and Harry ignored everyone.

"I swear to Merlin, all you want to do is disagree with me!" Harry cried, throwing his hands up.

"I do no such thing! Have you ever tasted your choice?" Draco retorted. "It's like eating a piece of dry fucking parchment!"

Harry slammed the table now. "It tastes like a damn dream, Malfoy!"

"Statistically, yours is less successful than mine in the market."

"Well, statistically, yours tastes like dragon shit!"

Draco stood up. "Very classy, Potter!"

"I will pluck one off of the very fucking tree and show you—"

"You think that you can reach a tree branch?" Draco laughed mockingly. "And precisely how tall are you, goblin?"

"Goblin?" Harry boomed. He leapt out of his chair and stalked towards Draco. The blond stepped away from the table in preparation. "You big, stupid, _fucking_—"

"I want to see you try—"

Harry had his hands around Draco's throat.

"Your stupid fucking apples—"

Draco started kicking Harry's shin.

"_Green _apples, Potter, fucking _green _apples—"

"Those stupid fucking green apples aren't half as good as_ red _apples—"

"You're a stupid fucking Gryffindor—"

"Stupid fucking Slytherin—"

"Please stop," Hermione murmured breathlessly. Blaise was cackling. Pansy was giggling into her napkin. Ron was taking food from various plates. Harry and Draco were both rolling around on the floor. Disaster. Chaos. This was all wrong. Hermione shook her head and finally screamed, "I SAID - STOP IT!"

Everyone froze. Hermione stood and walked over to the pile of limbs that was Harry and his husband. She smoothed out her dress.

"Tell me something, Harry, Draco," she began calmly. "Have you two _honestly _been arguing… _all _night… over _apples_?"

Both men looked at her. At each other. Then back at her.

Harry looked sheepish. "Um, he was eating a green apple on our way over here and I just _suggested _that—"

"APPLES?" Hermione asked again.

Draco pursed his lips. "Well, everyone knows that red apples are the lowest seed of the earth—"

"_You_ are the lowest seed of the earth," Harry muttered.

"How _dare_ you speak of—"

"YOU TWO," Hermione shouted, cutting them off, "ARE GROWN MEN - _ADULTS_ – AND A MARRIED COUPLE! HOW YOU IDIOTS MANAGE TO GET THROUGH YOUR DAILY LIVES WITHOUT ABSOLUTELY ANNIHILATING EACH OTHER IS BEYOND ME! I HAVE NEVER SEEN SUCH CHILDISH BEHAVIOUR IN MY HOUSEHOLD, AND I HAVE TWO YOUNG CHILDREN. AND RON."

Harry bit his lip. "Hermione—"

She pointed at the door. "GET OUT. GET OUT OF MY HOUSE."

Harry grimaced and stood, chagrinned, but not before sending another scalding glare in Draco's direction.

"Good going, piss face," Draco hissed at him, standing up as well. The two men began making their ways over to the coat rack, budging each other's shoulders back and forth as they went.

"You're the one who ruined the whole night, tosspot," Harry snapped back.

"Wouldn't have happened if you would have just agreed that green apples are the superior apple—"

"_Superior apple_? Are you fucking joking?"

"I SAID, LEAVE!" Hermione yelled again.

Harry quickly grabbed his coat off the rack and shot Hermione an apologetic glance. "Look, I thought we could handle ourselves this time…"

"Just go, Harry," Hermione sighed, gentler. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Harry gave her a small, grateful smile before turning and smacking Draco on the arm. "Come on, prat," he muttered.

"I'm getting my coat, git."

Harry held the door open and let Draco through it. "As soon as we get home, I'm making you a fucking red apple pie."

"No, as soon as we get home, _I'm _making you a fucking _green_ apple pie."

"You can't even bake, you wanker."

"I'll have you_ know_ that—"

The door slammed shut, drowning out the rising voices. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Merlin.

"Wait – why do they get to go home? I want to go home," Blaise announced from his seat. He then dropped his fork on the table as if to prove that point.

"I also wouldn't mind leaving," Pansy added. The two exchanged glances.

"Go home," Hermione said tiredly.

After the two ex-Slytherins had gathered their coats and murmured their goodbyes, Hermione sank back down into her seat at the dinner table. Disaster. Chaos. _Always._ Ron coughed and licked his fingertips appreciatively.

"You'll get 'em next time, honey," he tried.

Hermione just groaned.


End file.
